


Learning Curve

by Arterius_Rising



Series: Arterius Rising [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, Adoption, Attraction, Bathing/Washing, Clan Arterius, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Friendship/Love, Humour, Life Partners, Meeting the Parents, My OTP, One Shot, Partners to Lovers, Saren as Father, Sharing a Bed, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Shorts, Slight swearing, Swearing, Turians, What Ifs, contains feels, fornax, prompts, stubborn spectres, tags to be updated as I go, turian/human relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arterius_Rising/pseuds/Arterius_Rising
Summary: Collection of One-Shots and Shorts:Extracts from the life of two stubborn Spectres who both refuse to die, and who find each day a learning curve of cultural differences when being together; as partners in combat and mates.** No specific timeline. Contains AUs, what ifs and head cannons.**





	1. Bedmates

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m seriously out of practice with writing, but I’m starting slowly to get my ideas back onto paper... or a word document, anyhow. What better way to come back than with my favourite couple? 
> 
> Chapter summary: Saren is too pointy, while Shepard has too much hair.

Ow.

 

“Shepard.”

 

_ Ow _ _._ Something... something was jabbing her incessantly in the shoulder blade. It prickled her awareness and dragged her from the deep recesses of sleep. 

 

“Shepard.” That voice, as pressing as the prodding in her back, came more forcefully. “Wake up.”

 

Groaning, Shepard blinked her sleep sticky eyes open. Her body ached from their last mission, and her cybernetics flared bright within the dim room at having been awoken.

 

“What, Saren? Stop jabbing me.”

 

“I can’t.” His reaction was as terse as hers. “Your... hair, is stuck in my mandible.” When she went to shift around, he hissed and clasped her still with his three fingered hand. She tensed at being restrained, but made herself relax. “Don’t move. You’re tangled. Did the last firefight make you deaf?”

 

His hand released her only when she remained still. She fought the urge to turn and fix it herself. With time, they had grown to trust each other. Not just on the battlefield, but with their hearts, as black and broken as they were. Which meant in times like these, she had to take a back seat.

 

His fingers moved to the knot, and she felt the tug at her skull. She winced when he pulled too hard, but he paused, noticing her quiet discomfort and attempted to untangle them more gently.

 

“Cut through it.” It was only hair. She’d have lopsided strands for a few months, but that was nothing she hadn’t experienced growing up on earths streets.

 

“Would you trust me?” He returned, a little too sharply. He gnashed his teeth, catching himself and tried again. “Shepard, I am the oldest living Spectre, I think I can remove your hair without slicing it. Give me a moment.”

 

“It is only hair Saren.”

 

“Yes,” he returned, just as she felt the tension loosen slightly. “But as you insist on sharing my bed to sleep, this will happen often and if I were to cut it every time, you will be bold.”

 

Was he trying to be considerate? She squeezed her lips shut, letting that sink in, while he finished removing the remains of her hair from his mandible. Once they were freed, Shepard rolled onto her other side, to face him. His eyes glowed a cold, electric blue.

 

“It is  _ you _  who invited me into your bed.” He had been surprisingly clingy after their heated bouts of sex, and Shepard had been often too sated to move to her own rooms. Her legs too wobbly. Or so she told herself, she herself had been more prone to lingering after than she’d expected, more so than with any other causal lover she’d had.

 

He grumbled, and drew the curved side of a talon down her arm. “You would only find your way into it, if I did not. How else would you warm your strange human feet?”

 

She closed her eyes to his touch. His talons were cool, but his body was like a furnish. Though he wasn’t a comfortable bed mate, with his harsh angles and rough plates, his heat and presence made up for it.

 

“I can always leave,” she provoked.

 

He growled low, and drew his talon down to the small of her back, letting the point of it prick and tease her skin. His  _ point _  was made. He didn’t wish for her to go, as much as he grumbled and gnashed his teeth at her presence. It had been much the same when they’d figured out how well they actually worked together on the field.

 

Shepard drew herself up, and moved to straddle his waist. He grasped her hips, palms dragging along her scarred skin. Her hair hung between them, loose and unharmed. In a way, a symbol that he was willing to fix things when it came to them, rather than carving his way through, as he did in many other aspects of his life.

 

“I’ll take that as you don’t want me to go.”

 

“Be quiet,” he returned, without bite, “and  _ kiss me _ .”


	2. Meeting Clan Arterius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary: Shepard meets clan Arterius for the first time, and shes not quite sure if she’d prefer to face Harbinger all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ve always, alwaaaaays wanted to finish this one but it’s just been sitting on my phone, but I finally have a place to put all my random Shepard/Saren musings.

“You’re nervous.”

 

His distinct voice jolted her from her thoughts, and her reply came too quickly. “I am never nervous.” Even if he couldn’t read her monotone voice in comparison with the layered tones of his people, Saren knew Shepard too well. He would also pick up on her increased heart rate, and the slight scent of human sweat. 

 

“ _ Shepard _ ,” he cautioned. He gave her a pointed look over the steering wheel of their hired skycar, before turning his attention back to the flight path.

 

While they were in the safety of the vehicle which had thick uv protected glass, she didn’t need to wear the helmet to her environmental suit. Even through the darkened glass, she imaged she could feel the heat of palaven’s sunset.

 

She kept her eyes focused on the passing sights outside. The raised structures of metal which turian’s called home; some were being rebuilt, while others still remained in ruin. The bones left after a war.

 

When it was clear Saren wouldn’t let the subject slide, she answered. “What would you have me say?”

 

“For us to work, Shepard, you have to be transparent.”

 

She breathed out her nose, and silently cursed him for being right. In order to avoid misunderstandings, and ensure they didn’t end up hunting each other across the galaxy for some unknown slight, they had agreed to be honest with one another. The last thing the wounded galaxy needed was two Spectres having a lovers tiff.

 

Even still, she wasn’t used to appearing weak. Her team, hell - the damn Milky Way had looked to her for guidance, and she had learnt not to show her emotions.

 

“Your family...,” she began, and then paused to correct herself while hiding some time to actually think on how to word her next utterance. “Your clan, are not known for... their human tolerance.”

 

Saren looked at her, face unreadable, before he scoffed. “You are concerned with what my family thinks of your species? You had to deal with my judgement of you from the very beginning, and here we are now. You will, and have endured.”

 

She bristled at his near dismissal. “If I were a turian woman,” It was a strange thing to say out loud, but she’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind once or twice. “Would I seek the acceptance of them?”

 

His mandibles flicked out, when they were usually stuck tight to his jaw. She’d caught him. Saren sighed. “A turian woman would. She would seek to be worthy of my clans markings.” He met her eyes from the corner of his. “But you are not turian, and my clan cannot deny your strength.” 

 

She shifted in her seat. “Doesn’t mean they’re going to play nice.”

 

He reached across, to briefly squeeze her leg. She couldn’t feel the usual prick of his talons through the dense fabrics of her suit, but the weight of his hand was... welcome.

 

“You would bring honour to the Arterius name.” As he spoke those words, her head snapped to him, but he kept his eyes firmly on the road. “No matter what my brother, or my father would have you think.”

 

Shepard had no words for that. Instead she learnt her elbow on the window rest, and hid her face with the palm of her hand.

 

The rest of the journey was taken in silence, and all too soon Saren slowed the car to land outside a huge complex of a building; mixing metals with glass and stone she had no names for. The stone which had settled in her stomach since the night before weighed heavily still.

 

“Shepard.” Saren said to her, as the engine switched off. She turned to look at him, as he had to her. “Think of it as any mission we are sent on. My family will not make it easy for you, but you can handle yourself - I wouldn’t have chosen you for my mate otherwise.” His mandible flicked, very briefly.

 

His words flustered her, and so Shepard interjected with humour. “I do not think your father would appreciate it if I headbutted him like a Krogan,” she laughed, a short but genuine sound. 

 

He shook his head, elegant cheek spines catching in the dying light behind him. When his eyes settled on something over her shoulder, she knew her time within the car had come to an end. If she refused to get out, it would seem like a weakness and Shepard would be damned if she allowed that.

 

“Show time?”

 

Had he been able to raise an eyebrow plate, he would have. As it was, his face was too damaged for much movement. It was what made him so hard to read.

 

“Put your helmet on,” he commanded, lightly. It had once irked her, but no more - she especially liked it when he used that tone in the bedroom.

 

As she slipped it over her head, and connected the ports to the suit at her neck, Saren rounded the front of the car and opened her door. Once she was outside, and he was sure she wouldn’t bolt or some such nonsense, he went to collect their bags.

 

Shepard, for once glad that the visor which protected her eyes also shielded them from any spying eyes, took in the complex of his family home. It must have been large enough to house multiple generations, and while the walls were scorched, much of the damages had already been repaired.

 

Saren touched a hand to her shoulder, catching her attention. “This way.” He lead her up the front path, towards the large metal door which was nearly indistinguishable from the wall, only it was a darker shade of grey.

 

Just as they reached the end of the path, the door opened. The turian who took up the space would have been Saren’s spitting image, had he not had a slight purple tint, blue clan markings and far less cybernetic modifications as his younger brother.

 

Desolas Arterius, General during the battle of Shanxi.

 

Shepard, despite her nerves of steel, felt her courage waver. The Arterius clan was as prodigious as they came, and though she knew much about turian customs, she couldn’t be comfortably sure she wouldn’t put her foot in it. She’d hate to be the start of some diplomatic incident. 

 

Desolas’ eyes traveled from Saren, down to her. Even through the visor, it felt like he met and held her gaze. He didn’t speak, and Shepard waited for one of the brothers to break the tension.

 

When he extended a hand, she almost stared at the appendix too long, wondering at his motives. Eventually, she outstretched her hand and took his; their handshake was firm. But as quickly as he had brought attention to her presence, his attention turned to Saren.

 

“Are you going to let us in, brother?”

 

He stared at Saren a moment longer, an unspoken conversation she had no hopes of understanding must have past between them. It felt far longer than it actual was, but finally the older brother stepped aside.

 

“Welcome.” His voice was gravely, but higher pitched than Saren. Shepard couldn’t help but compare the two - as guilty as that made her feel - considering what Saren would look like with his clans markings. In contrast to his pale skin, she thought the complex markings would be stunning.

 

Saren placed his hand on the small of her back, urging her inside. With a deep breath, hidden beneath her helmet, she entered into the household of the Arterius clan; something she would never have expected, and certainly wouldn’t have believed if someone had told her this was where her path would lead when she’d first met the older Spectre.

 

Once the door was sealed, shielding her from the roasting atmosphere, Shepard was able to reach up and remove her helmet seals with a pop. Out fell her blonde hair, the straight stands curling at her jaw from the humidity. Desolas blinked at her, but caught himself in a dignified manner, and gestured down the hallway.

 

“Make yourself at home.” He added, as an after thought. “That is the human term, is it not?”

 

“Yes,” Shepard agreed, only half paying attention. “That is correct.”

 

Desolas hummed, while Saren remained quiet, but close beside her. Discreetly, she leant back into him to whisper, “What was that about?” She didn’t like going in blind, and there was some obvious tension between the brothers.

 

Saren, two heads taller than her, tilted his chin down, eyes roaming her face. “He was... surprised. One, that I would have such a relationship after so long alone and two... that I actually had the guts to bring you here.”

 

Her expression didn’t change, but her voice hardened. “What do you mean?”

 

His eyes held an intensity that she only saw in the bedroom or on the battlefield. “The moment you entered this house, I declared you as my mate.”

 

Oh. They’d spoken about being an item, as if were, not seeing anyone else but each other. But this... was important, to him. She swallowed against her suddenly dry throat.

 

“Shepard, it is a declaration of my feelings. But you have a choice. You are human after all. Should you wish it, this will be just another strange custom of my people. You have no obligation-“

 

She reached for his hand - they rarely showed affection in public, but this was something different - and squeezed. “Be quiet,” she echoed his own words back at him, from a short time ago. “I accept.”


	3. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary: Turians aren’t known for their love of water, but with Shepard’s invite to her bath on the table, Saren will compromise for a chance at an intimate moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another unfinished idea, but now it has a place to shine. These are really great to write between work and studies. Not too much added stress.

With a deep sigh, Shepard settled her aching bones deeper into the warm water. The bubbles threatened to slosh over the side of the tub, but she was too drowsy to care. It had been too long since she’d been able to soak her bruised body. Being a Spectre wasn’t easy work. It was gruelling, demanding and at all times life threatening.

 

Especially working with Saren Arterius; a man who barely slept, and liked to take on the worst kind of jobs. If they weren’t neck deep in bullets with some sort of corrupt politician or businessman to dispose of, he wasn’t satisfied. Shepard shook her head at the thought, and thanked her lucky stars it was Nihlus who had been her mentor to begin with.

 

Since their last mission on Illium had finished sooner than expected, Shepard had taken herself off to their hotel room for a well deserved bath. It had been two months of cramped conditions on their ship, and cold, quick showers between ground time and her exhaustedly hitting the bunk. She was well in need of five minutes of down time.

 

Leaning back, while ignoring the twinge in her muscles as best she could, Shepard fantasied about ordering room service. While they’d been staying in the high end hotel to watch their target, the side benefit had been human specific food. Shepard wanted something deep fried, or  _ anything _  which wasn’t a ration that tasted of cardboard.

 

Saren would undoubtedly turn his nose up, remark on how she shouldn’t eat such rubbish - her body was a weapon to be honed and cared for - but she would be more than happy to savour it in front of him.

 

As if thinking on him summoned the pale Spectre, she heard the main door to the room open and close. Speak of the devil, as the earth term. She idly grasped the combat knife she’d rested on the side of the bath, remaining relaxed but alert, just in case it wasn’t her partner turned bed mate.

 

Her hand only released the weapon when she heard him talking to himself through the bathroom door. It wasn’t a good sign that he was muttering to himself. As always, he ignored the closed door to him, as Nihlus said he’d been doing since he was Saren’s protégée, and stepped into the bathroom.

 

“Shepard, there is-“

 

He paused, and stared at her with an unusual expression. Not one of his usual defaults; unreadable, vindictive or lustful. This one was more a confused surprise, if she’d have hazarded as guess.

 

She raised a brow, but didn’t move. “Yes, Saren?”

 

He made his way into the room, talons clicking on the tiles. As low down as she was, Saren towered above her. His gaze was lowered, to the suds which gathered around the swell of her bare breasts.

 

“You’ve seen them before,” she remarked, smirking.

 

“Not  _ those _ ,” he purred. “This-“ his talon extended to hover over the bruise which had formed across her collar bone, circling round to her shoulder like some sort of malted tattoo.

 

“Hm,” she looked down at herself. “Oh that. Curtesy of the bastard we ended last night. Grenade blast.”

 

His jaw worked, and had Shepard known he wouldn’t harm her, she would have been concerned with the violent intent in his cybernetic eyes.

 

“What is it?” She asked, unsure of whether she wanted to know the answer. He was prone to bouts of foul temper, but he was not unreasonable or undisciplined with it.

 

He didn’t answer at first, and instead drew his eyes along the bubbled water in the tub. She imagined him grimace when he gestured with his hand and gave the order, “Move along.” 

 

Her brow lifted again, and she was about to protest, but his big body was already moving to get in behind her. Spluttering in mock outrage, she scooted up and watched as his raptor like frame folded in uncomfortably to fit. While the bath could quite happily hold two, maybe three humans at a squeeze, he was far larger than a human man.

 

The water rose as he sank down, and poured over the rim, bubbles and all. “Are you happy now?” She grumbled, reaching forward to replace the water by turning on the hot tap.

 

“No,” was his return. “Not in the slightest.”

 

“No one forced you into this bath, you know.” She snorted, and shifted to look back at him. His legs were bent up to prevent his leg spurs from being crushed into the porcelain, and his arms rested awkwardly on his knees. It was a good thing he must have stripped out of his armour when he arrived.

 

He pulled her back into him with his palms on her hips. “That is not the reason,” he explained, as her spine rested against his rough cowl. “Since you failed to take care of yourself, I will do it for you.”

 

She opened her mouth to protest, as futile as it was to rail against his choice of words, when he dripped water from his large hand over her head. Beads of it tickled her neck, and she silenced herself; it felt good. When he reached for the bottle beside her combat knife, she caught his hand with hers.

 

“That’s bubbles.” He grunted, and she instead lead his hand to the other bottles further along. “This is for hair, and this is for skin.”

 

She released her hold. He was an intelligent man, and that was all the prompting he needed. Saren lifted the shampoo, and squeezed a portion into his palm. He then set about massaging the gel into her hair, the rough pads of his fingers giving the right amount of friction to her scalp that her toes near curled.

 

Despite herself, Shepard groaned and closed her eyes to the sensations. He stilled a moment, but continued when she nudged him. Like a cat wanting more attention. “That feels nice Saren, don’t stop.”

 

Voice husky, he chuckled shortly. “I have heard that before, though under different circumstances.”

 

“As I recall, we were both naked and just as close,” she smirked. “So not so much different.”

 

They fell into silence, but it wasn’t empty. He worked the soap through her hair, and tipped her head back with fingers under her jaw as he used his hands to once more cup the water, each movement measured and slow. When he was finished, she jolted forward to snatch the conditioner.

 

“Use this next.” He took the bottle from her, pausing at her eagerness but complied. This time he used his talons to comb through her hair as the condition turned the strands to silk. He hummed, as if it pleased him, and she wasn’t sure he noticed himself having done it.

 

Rinsing her hair once more, Shepard melted into his chest. Plates weren’t the most giving thing to lean against, but he was warm and his weathered cowl wasn’t as sharp as the rest of him. She was so distracted, that she barely registered him lather up his hands until he placed them on her chest, and she hissed.

 

The bruise hurt more than she’d let on. Had he possessed the anatomy to tut, he would have - as it was, Saren growled. Shepard felt it through the echo against her spine. “This needs medi-gel.”

 

“Too late for that,” she sighed.

 

He made to get up, but Shepard halted him with a hand to his knee. He stilled, but she could feel his tension as his limbs remained prepared to lift him.

 

“Stay.”

 

“Shepard...” She didn’t want a lecture, and so she twisted, ignoring her aches and pains, to settle on her knees between his.

 

“Teach me how to wash you.” Curled between his thighs, she saw how truly massive he was. His torso took up the majority of the tub.

 

“My kind uses oils, we do not wash as you do.”

 

“Then teach me.” There was a teasing light to her eye. He had once refused to mentor her, when the council had wished he take on the first human Spectre rather than Nihlus.

 

He closed his eyes briefly, and then relented. “Fine. But you must treat that bruise, and bind your wounds. We leave tomorrow, back out into the terminus system and I need you battle ready.”

 

“Deal.”

 


	4. Fornax on the Dining Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary: Joker thought it would be a laugh to subscribe Shepard to Fornax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This one is totally random, I’m not going to lie. Flu and cold are kicking my butt, so here’s something to cheer me up... *sneezes* Also, thanks for all the kudos so far (/^▽^)/

When Saren came out from the kitchen, steaming cup of kova in hand, bare as the day he was born, he strolled to stand at her shoulder. Usually, Shepard would have taken the chance to soak him in - his sleek frame, impressive cowl and elegant features, but as it was, she was distracted.

She didn’t even attempt to hide what was spread out on their dining table, mostly because she was too absorbed.

“Really, Shepard? On the dining table...”

“Joker signed me up for it,” she clarified to him, flicking to the next page. Her eyes almost bulged out of her head at the elcor spread in the well known fornax magazine.   
“It uh... turned up this morning, and how could I not look? Although...,” she changed the page quickly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to enter the embassy hall the same way ever again.”

With a totally ignorant mind to what lay beneath the diplomats clothes, beyond the basic lessons learnt in xeno-biology at Alliance boot camp.

Once the initial shock, and itching curiosity wore off, she didn’t falter as she drank her coffee, and perused the spreads filled with alien nudes. It was only when she reached the segment with humans, that Saren made a sound from behind her. He leant forward, bent over her shoulder.

“Oh, now you’re interested,” Shepard teased, eyeing him from the corner of her gaze as she clasped her cup between her palms. All the while, subtlety taking the chance to breathe in his fresh scent, he’d come straight from the shower.

“You humans... have some strange concepts of pornographic imagery.” His blue, grey eyes scanned the pages which had a slight sheen.

She raised a brow, and took a sip. “I’d say these are tame compared to the others.”

He made a noncommittal sound in his throat, and finally moved away, his attention having been worn thin. “I am going to the council chambers today, do you want to ride with me?”

Shepard opened her mouth to reply, but was cut short when her omni-tool rang. “I’ll come with you,” she rushed to say. “Just give me fifteen minutes to finish this coffee and get dressed.” She then answered the call, and narrowed her eyes at the small vid screen which hovered above her arm.

“Joker.”

“Commander.”

“You’re not supposed to call me that anymore.”

“Oh, oh _riiiight_. Captain, did you get your post this morning?”

“I did, Major. Tell me, was it wholly your idea or do I need to book extra room in the brig?”

He laughed, and her lips twitched. Anyone else would have been shaking in their boots at her pulling rank, but Joker was immune after all their years and everything they had been through together. Unfortunately, that also meant he got away with far too much.

“I’ll never tell, Shepard. You know me better than that.”

She made a ‘mm’ sound and polished off her coffee. “It was more _attention grabbing_ than the morning news, I’ll give you that, but Joker - don’t you dare sign me up for anything else.”

He held up his hands, having called her from his personal terminal, which meant his hands were free. “Scouts honour.”

“You weren’t ever a scout, Joker.” Her smirk grew.

“Way to crush my dreams, Shepard.” He placed a hand over his chest in mock pain.

“I’m going now.”

“Okay, okay.” He paused. “Before you go... what did you think of it? The asari spread on page three was-“

She hung up, and shook her head. Idly, as she shoved the rest of her now cold toast past her lips, she turned to the next page... and almost chocked. It was the turian segment, and her cheeks heated at all the... unsheathed equipment, as it were.

“Now, now Shepard.” Saren spoke from behind her. She jolted and hit her toe on the table leg. Hissing, she clutched her sock covered food.

“Damn it, Saren!”

He chuckled, the bastard.

He swept a hand over her hair, and bent to press his nose to her crown, inhaling deeply. His lips moved against her hair. “I cannot blame you for being attracted to my species. We are after all, superior.”

She swatted him away. Her cheeks were redder than Thane’s gills, and she wouldn’t give Saren or Joker the satisfaction of seeing flustered. With one final glance, Shepard closed the magazine and set it aside. All thoughts of it were forgotten, when she stood to face her mate.

He was beautiful, and they still had ten minutes till they had to leave, after all.


	5. Happy News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary: The adoption papers come back approved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a tear jerker... I love it. I left this kind of short, but impactful.

The adoption papers had come back, approved. Her fingers fluttered over the paper, the evidence of change in their future, before they settled on her lips. She warred with the need to smile, and to cry.

Standing up on wobbly legs, and with a shaky inhalation, Shepard made her way down the hall. Feet sinking into heavy duty carpet, not only to protect against Saren’s talons, but the teen who would be coming into their lives, she stopped outside the spare room. Empty no longer.

Pushing the door open with a click, she was greeted with the single bed, bedding freshly made and tucked neatly down the sides. A dark grey to match the rest of the room; perfect for a young boy who would soon enter adolescence. Plain enough that he could make his mark, but not bland enough to be cold.

The room was filled with things he might need: clothes, schooling equipment, books and a tidy desk with shelves above it, waiting to be filled. Saren had outdone himself. She’d been heartened by his efforts, the care in which he’d chosen every object in the room. He’d shown a side of himself that even Shepard herself thought he might not possess.

He would, despite his past, be a dutiful father.

The carpet rustled behind her. She sensed him, and so didn’t react on the offensive as he neared slowly. His hands came up, sweeping across her abdomen as he pulled her back towards his chest. Saren’s nose dipped to the junction at her shoulder, and he inhaled.

“What is it?” There was concern in his tone. He spoke quietly, as if too loud a sound might break something in her.

Her hands raised to cover his, and she fitted her five fingers with his three in a way which seemed natural to her, after all their years. “Did you read the papers on the table?”

There was a pause, as if dread rose in him. “No. I came straight to find you.”

She didn’t want to leave him agonising over the outcome any longer, but her words could also not do the news justice. She clasped his hand, and drew away, leading him under the doorway. “Come.”

His hand tightened on hers, and when she reached the table, Shepard gestured for him to read himself. He glanced at her, mandibles fluttering nervously - a very rare sight, before he leant over the table, eyes scanning the writing. She stepped back a little, but continued to watch his expression. His eyes slowed, lingered on the page as if he couldn’t believe it, and then turned to her.

She couldn’t help her watery grin. “They approved us. He’s going to come live here.” He still couldn’t believe it, Saren for once in his life, was shocked beyond words.

“Yes Saren. We’re going to become parents.”

“Shepard, I-“

He looked lost, and so she stepped into him to become his anchor. She soothed her hands over his cowl. “You will be a wonderful father, Saren. You can do this.”

He blinked, and the strength she’d always admired and respected returned to his silver eyes. “I can. I will. For us. For him.”


End file.
